There's always a before

Next time Ill stick to writing about farm chores, but in the meantime here's to a little philospohy and a peek into life in my head. 

Any given moment has a before and an after. The before is always described with words like anticipation, ignorance, excitement, expectations and unaware to name a few. The after is then associated with descriptions like proud, upset, thrilled, angry or perhaps more specific terms like letdown, accomplishment, disbelief or proud. For every moment the before and after are significant parts of a process, usually a learning one, and of course always one that defines and shapes us for who we are.

Right now I’m in the before. Before a phone call actually. One that is particularly odd in that it’s a phone call that is exciting and promising, I’d even go as far as to say thrilling for me, yet just an everyday business type of call for the person on the other line. What’s stranger still is how I play out all the "after" scenarios and fill my head with many outcomes of how this call might play out and what can come of it afterwards (both good and bland -luckily no bad possibilities here, its like extra credit I suppose). 

There are other before's such as “before pictures."  In this before photo of my dining room its all about the vision, what can I make this place become and what do I want it to look like? I love the fact that the house is over eighty years old, because then I get to ask the other questions like what was it like before this? What were some of the conversations here seventy years ago? Who has sat here around a table, and what dinners were had or what stories were shared around a game of cards some fifty odd years ago?   But with out a before, there is nothing to compare too, nothing to measure progress and advancement.  However with the before above, I can compare my restoration project and see how far along it came. 

There is a dichotomy presented with the existence of a before, meaning with it, comes an after. In the case of the dining room remodel, the after is easy. You can clearly see the after in the photo above. 

Another example of a clear before and after is, well, like with the lambs. The before, where a few lambs were in the barn for a last night, thriving, existing, eating and sleeping. The after, a bit more grim I suppose, is the part of farming I’m still becoming accustomed too. Where after is a trip home from the butcher, no longer lambs in the back of the truck like earlier that morning, but instead the promise of food for a table and for familes to gather.   A before with life, and an after without. The before will always stand out to me, truck lights across the paddock at 6am loading up the lambs; and then backing the truck up to the curved white plywood wall, where thousands of animals have been unloaded previous to us arriving.  All necessary moments and a necessary part of life, yet still before moments that leave me feeling awkward. At this point anyway.  Its been an interesting week for me, being responsible for the end of the same lambs I was responsible for starting.

I think of remodels with the before and afters, I think of all the ideas and concepts and situations I play out in my head during the befores and anticipation and then of course the after where I compare notes to see what worked and what didn’t. Even still, what about the before moments where we are blindsided?  You weren’t expecting the moment, but for some reason we still remember exactly where we were, or what we were doing just before it occurred; the recent anniversary of September 11th is the example that comes to mind.  Moments are so important and so influential to us as humans, we must create a before and after to bookmark the particular moment, in an effort to monumentalize the significance of it.

I processed all this thinking, and I realized (again) I thrive more on the before compared to the after. I like (and hate at the same time) the unknown. I can make it, define it or create it as big as I want it to be. With a before there isn't a right answer.  It’s the before, before there is definition of what it actually becomes, that makes me feel responsible for what comes next. This explains why most of the time I’m onto the next project before I even finish the current one. What's so great about a completed project, I’m always thinking of the next thing I can do, build, create, or become.

Student, Landscaper, Teacher, Builder, Renovator, Farmer. It’s easy to reflect back and see what I have already become, ‘cause it’s the after people- get it? But it is so much more exciting to anticipate what’s next and what I want to evolve into!

Not all before’s are great; some moments lead to a let down. But the funny thing is, it’s all about perspective. Because rather than look at it as a before that led to a letdown, just look at it as a moment that never existed at all. A moment yet to occur if you will. Leaving us to forget about disappointment, avoiding discouragement and move on. Because with every after, there is soon to be another before.  

It is better to believe than to disbelieve; in doing so you bring everything into the realm of possibility. - Einstein

History Revealed

Windy Knob hasn't always been the sharp dressed wool raisin' farm that it is today.  Shocking I know, but a lot of work has gone into restoring it and helping the farm to puff its' chest out and be proud of the character and quality that has stood here on site for almost 100 years (barn 1912).  The sheep of course haven't been restored, they are just plain new.  Windy Knob Farms was Windy Knob Orchards for most of its existence, under the direction of the Wick family with master minds Frank and Doris.  You can read more history on our website to learn more about it, but I wanted to share with ya'll this image I saw the other morning.  While pouring my morning cup of coffee, I perused the pastures from the kitchen window only to see the shadow of the lone sweet cherry tree casted up onto the barn.  And there it was.  A moment to stop and reflect on what was, and what has become.  The farms way of telling me, yeah you've shinned me up good but don't ever forget I've been around a lot longer than you.  I was humbled and proud all at the same time; realizing how much work has been done to these grounds long before I was even born.  It's like showing up at the end of a project and tucking your thumbs in your beltloop and boasting "Yup. I'll take it from here."  No.  The vision was made, and I've worked hard to keep that image; not changing it, not making it better, just dusting it off so to say.  It was a serene moment with the sun rising up over Grand Traverse Bay, and the cherry tree stretching to catch as much of the morning sun rays it possibly could, leaving its' tall shadow down the gentle dewey hill, across the driveway and up onto the barn wall.  Enough to make me stop and appreciate everything thats special about this place. 

But get this.

Its even better.

So after a long day of haying (hay-ing: usually occurs on the hottest days of summer, loading 40 pound bales of hay into a truck bed using Tetris like strategies, followed by unloading said bales up to an even higher loft in which case space is of the essence and must be strategically stacked), we gathered in the doorway of the barn.  The tall double barn doors were shifted down, opening the door way to its fullest extent.  It was midday, so all the light in the world filled every usually dark nook in the barn.  When you first walk into the barn, you tend to look up.  And in looking up, you'll see the massive beech tree trunks that have served as the loft supports for the previous, I don't know, 80 years I'll guess.  In this loft, is a pile of old wood.  Its like the Home Depot clearence section; anything left over after projects for the past 80 years ends up thrown into this storage loft.  

But as we stood there, one of us noticed a piece of the scrap pile that seemed to have a color.  And the gap between the Beech tree, was in the perfect position (and now exposed by that generous sunlight pouring in) to expose a letter.  A letter that looked like a K.  On the other side of that massive support trunk, you could follow this scrap piece of a wood, and see another letter.  Well by now the three of us are basically standing on our heads trying to turn upside down to read what seems to be some sort of sign.  Dan jumped up in the loft and began to frantically chuck wood, in an effort to get to the bottom of the pile.  However, from the top of the pile, you don't get the benefit of the massive sun rays.  Instead Dan was working with the dark, the cobwebs, a few wasps and the bats that live up there.  So I shouted from below, directing him to the left, no not that piece, the other one, now move that, throw that one aside, yeah! That one.  Pull it out. 

As Dan dropped it down, I was able to read the K, followed by the N,  and an O...  It was the original Windy Knob sign.  This barn protected sign, painted in a forest green and creamy yellow lead paint, had sat in this storage pile for God know's how long.  It was such a reward.  I mean it too. I'm smiling just typing this, because its like a treasure to find this sense of belonging, original character that can't be made or created.  Its the original Windy Knob sign for Pete's sake!  And now it sits, with all of its farm freshness in the new Dining Room.  What's old is new again.  

Leaving the nest...err I mean farm.

I will not even begin to say it's the same. What I am saying is, for me, I imagine it must be a little something like this.  You watch them born and find a part of you instantly connected, sometimes even assisting in the delivery.  Shoot. I even bottled fed one for a week.  And through the spring, into summer, they grow and grow.  And eat.  And grow.  I digress, but anyway, you work to raise these great specimens of sheep for a purpose.  As I am able to accomplish just that, people want them.  That is what is supposed to occur.  The goal is to sell them.  But the day comes where visitors ogle over of which ones they like.  And you watch the would be buyers, and reminisce about the excitement you too had when you were picking out your own starter flock.  Soon you're loading up sheep into a trailer and the smells and sounds all start coming back to you.  While you watch the trailer close up, you hear their final few bah's, recognizing each call and placing the face you saw out on pasture all summer with its individual unique sound.  These same sheep that are now leaving your farm are the ones you intended through intentional breeding, watched stand for the first time, introduced to pasture, trimmed their tiny hooves and sometimes even petted and said hello too.  This is now the business side of raising livestock.  

I can imagine at this point some of you are wondering just where these sheep were headed.  Doherty the one and a half year old "veteran" of the group, Abagail the beautiful Moorit ewe lamb and Ike too, the farm favorite that developed a larger fan base in his 6 months of existence in Northport than I have in over two years here.  Well I'm happy to report that these sheep have a destination of a barn in Wisconsin.  They will continue to be the founding ram, the pretty little girl and the farm jester; it just so happens it will have to be on another farm.  

I feel proud, accomplished, and weird all at the same time.  Perhaps I would have been more cut out for this had I been raised on a farm.  Or maybe even a little 4H in the background.  Tae Kwon Do and little league never covered animal behaviors nor prepared me for the psychology of raising livestock.  And of all the books I've read there wasn't a Ch 12: This is how you will feel.

It's true not all lambs leaving this farm will carry the badge of good enough, but from my side of things its the same regardless.  Despite the destination, they leave here never to return.  I did my job as a farmer, gave them the best life I could and raised them in a sustainable manner.  One farm, one sheep at a time, trying to make our food and our earth just a little better, a little more honest and doing it a little more responsibly.

 

Autumn calls

I was going to try and fight it.  August seemed ever so quickly to go from single digits to double digits, but the rate at which we hit the 20's was outlandish.  Soon enough the weather was in on it too.  Cooler breezes, bigger brighter clouds, even a few leaves changing.  Just enough to gang up on me and outnumber my "I dont want summer to end" fit. 

They say the first step to any, shall we say "fault", is to acknowledge the problem. Well I acknowledge that I am an ADD, OCD, workaholic who can't sit till for two seconds to save my life, madman. I admit it. But it's not solving any problems for me, I just realize that I’m nuts. Who are they anyway.. and what do they know?

I set a goal of finishing a house project or two and then capped it for the summer.  But soon I found myself into antique table restoration, and furniture salvaging / making.  Funny thing is, this chair that I had found in the dumpster of all places (and later restored) has become Noah's new spot long before I could even tell you what its like to sit in it.  And now the fall duties have crept up on me.  The calendar tried to tell me this a few weeks ago; the weather had started yelling it.  But it wasn't until I realized all the ram lambs were running around mounting eachother that it dawned on me...  Oh yeah.  Its breeding season.

Windy Knob is still in the midst of selling its few remaining breeding lambs, and of course our humanely raised grass fed lamb will be available at the end of September.  But what I find ironic is that this "year" isn't quite finished, and yet as a shepherd I have to plan out the next month, in order to plan out the five months thereafter which lead to birthing.  One wrong move (or shorted out fenceline) and my 2 am barn checks could be in the roughest parts of January instead of mid March.

The lambs are looking better than ever after an incredible pasture season.  I was basically able to save and revitalize one of our largest pastures, and sustain all the sheep on just the two pastures with more than enough to spare.  Above is Ulysses and Chester on the left, and Ike and Woodrow on the right.  One of our Moorit Ewe lamb twins, Alaina, is on the right.  Contact us at windyknobfarms@yahoo.com for more information.     

Finishing up main floor remodels, restoring furniture, moving-shearing-prepping and ... almost added breeding sheep, but that wouldn't exactly come out like I meant it.  Anyway its been a great summer.  And to think that Fall is often my favorite time of year.  The colors in the area are amazing enough to draw visitors from around the world, taking their vacations in the same area I get to live in; a blessing I will never tire of.  The beautiful colors, the cool weather, and the honeycrisp apples.   'Nuff said.  Let my OCD ADD or what ever you want to call it, run away with me. I'll have the rest of my life to rest right? Does anyone around Windy Knob just relax and take it easy?  There's got to be someone who gets to relax and take in the views isn't there?  Why Yes.

Funny you should ask.  

Have you met my disproportioned, all leg, Great Dane named Milos?

Summer rolls along

Things are moving along here in the summer of 2010.  As we approach the halfway point of summer, I realize Im letting another summer slip by.  All the "fun" activities, and excurgeons somehow get replaced with duties and farm projects.  Dont get me wrong, its been a great summer, wonderful weather, the pastures are in great shape so far, but somehow the fall always comes too soon.  Above you see our new delaware chicks, growing up ever so quickly, yet still under the watchful eye of their surrogate mother.

New and exciting news brings our Windy Knob road sign!  Its great to have as a marker for family and friends to find out driveway, great when someone is coming out to look at a fleece or purchase a lamb and its nice for all the random visits we get now from strangers and vacationers.

Look for our next sign... by apt only. 

What happens at the farm this time of year?  Separation.  The ram lambs become fertile and acting all rammy by about 5 months old.  At the beginning of August, all the lambs are brought up to the barn, and we seperate the ewe lambs from the ram lambs.  The girls are quickly seperated and then run back out onto pasture to join the Ewes.

The boys remain in the barn, where in tight quarters, the adult rams are less likely to get enough running steam to inflict injury on the newbies.  After being eyed in the stall overnight, they are then giving the paddock area outside the barn, and within a week they too were out on pasture.  Here you see the ram lambs of 2010, werent exactly being social, when they huddled in the corner away from the big guys.

With fall shearing a few weeks away, fall butchering also coming up, its time to start selecting the keepers from the not so keepers.  We butcher and sell grass fed lamb in the fall, please contact us for more information and to be on our mailing list.  With just a few ram lambs (colored and a registered Corriedale) and one Moorit Ewe Lamb left, its been a great first year with the lambs.    

Heres to the last few weeks of summer...

 

I don't know what came over me.

It just happened, I don't know.  Sure looking back it wasn't a good decision, I can't even explain it.  Look, here's the story.

If you read the most recent post, you know I broke my left arm.  It's not in a sling anymore, but it isn't exactly useable yet either; just sort of dangles there.  Letting it is more for my left hand to feel more included, you know so the right hand doesn't develop "oldest child" syndrome and does everything for the left.  Anyway, picture this.  It's another beautiful day at Windy Knob Farms, and I'm out trying to feed the lambs by hand.  I take a little treat grain out there and wait patiently for the lambs to muster up enough courage to eat from my hand.  I am sitting on the edge of the water trough, which leaves me about an inch wide rim to balance and teeter on to begin with.  I have a lame arm on the left, grain in my right; the grain bucket is tucked away between my feet (preventing any cheaters who want to take out the middle guy and eat from the bucket).

Now before you start laughing and thinking I fell in the water trough, Ill save you the disappointment.  I didn't.  No, that would have been too simple.  A few choice words, scattered chubby lambs stealing grain and running, some splashing, a change of clothes and we'd be on with it.

No.  This is worse.

Martha was the first.  Martha is this beautiful black and gray Ewe lamb that mustered up the courage to get close enough and take some grain from my hand.  It's really something, watching her eyes like big marbles steadfast on my every move.  She extends that upper lamb lip in an effort to shuffle the grain to her mouth; using every ounce of hunger to outweigh the rationale that she shouldnt be eating from the big bad scary guy. 

Success. She ate! And ate... and ate some more.  Soon enough her brother Rutherford, then Chester...  Then it was absolute free for all.  All the lambs were crowding space, pushing, shoving, eating, engulfing my handfuls of food faster than I could restock the supply.   This was cute for me, but annoying to Drogo the llama. 

Chester and his gang.

Drogo knows the drill.  Farmer comes with a shiny pail... that means grain is coming.  And for the past two months it was the drogo show because the lambs didnt want the grain, and this left some one on one time for the llama.

And here we are.  I'm peculiarly balanced on this water trough, lame left arm, grain at my feet, right hand feeding grain.  Drogo over my left shoulder, lambs pushing and shoving, and into drogo.  At this moment is where time slows down and voices go into a deep bass sound that reverberates within your skin.  The lambs were pushing drogo out of the picture, so much in fact he started his warning signs.  First the ears were pinned back, then the clicking, followed by the the squealing and you know its coming, yes the spit.  Drogo hauled off and hocked a spit wad at the lambs collected around us. I didn't take a direct hit, but I did feel the after spray.  The lambs didn't seem that surprised, somehow I bet this wasn't there first spit attack. But I on the other hand was so taken a back that Drogo would disrupt our moment.

I was angry, and yes we are still in slow motion right now.  I couldn't push Drogo back with my left arm, I couldnt even abandon the grain in my right to turn and push him away (then I would have ended up in the water trough).  I can't say I even thought about what I was about to do next. It's not one of my prouder moments.  Pure chaos for those spilit seconds, and I felt robbed of the success that Marta and I had accomplished, and unfortunately my anger took over.  I didn't know what else I could do to express my frustration with Drogo.  Yes people.  I did.

I spit back dang it! I told you, I dont know what I was thinking, I was upset, the little kid in me reacted before I could think, and spitting back was was all I could do.  I hauled off and spit back at Drogo.

And I will never do it again. 

Drogo's reaction brought out the most sincere level of apology I could have had.  His ears kind of just fell flat against his skull.  His eyelids seemed to droop just a little.  His body language took on an appeareance of defeat, like it was the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to him.  The worst was his facial expression.  His top lip seemed to arch like Elvis and quiver all at the same time. If llama's cry, he surely was at this point.

He slowly walked away, leaving me feeling guilty. How could I?  Even the lambs were like Dude, that was just wrong.

I got up and grabbed the bucket behind my feet and lopsidedly shuffled towards him to offer my olive branch of undividied attention and grain.  But Drogo wasn't having it. He just trotted away to match my speed, keeping the "Im not forgiving you distance" between us.  His lips still arched in disgust he just looked at me from the back of the pasture; and from his facial expression all I could read from him was "I thought we were friends."

Ugh. I felt terrible.  I spit at my own llama.  And for llamas that must just be the end all be all. 

Lesson learned.  We have since made up.  Like 10 minutes after that.  Some special grain, a few I'm sorrys.  And time goes on.  But I wish I could just sort out the neurons that fired, making the decision to spit back at Drogo.  I just can't comprehend that.  Note to self:  Hey rookie farmer, spitting is a bad idea.

He just wanted his Independence too.

Happy Independence Day.  Well, a couple days late, but truly. And its July something or other... already?

One thing that is done on a regular basis is to "move" the sheep around.  Its called Intensive Rotational Grazing, and its proven to have some great impacts on pasture quality as well as reducing the need for chemical management of parasites.  Every 4 to 7 days, depending on size of pasture and number of sheep, the mini flocks (rams, ewes and lambs right now) get shifted to a new part of the pasture.  Think of it as mini neighborhoods you know, so the sheep get to know each other better and build solid relationships.  But seriously, it does help in that you basically knock down all vegetative species in a small area.  The sheep are hungry enough to eat the invasive species like Knapweed and such not just the good stuff.  Now, not only are you preventing the permanent removal of say some good clover but you also clip down all other vegetative species in a way that helps the native grasses compete against the crazy weeds.  You are now creating a more lush, pure and productive pasture.  In addition, since the sheep arent grazing so close to the soil and manure, they reduce their worm larvae intake.  This creates less of a dependency on chemical dewormers every three weeks, and instead it becomes seasonal treatments.  The sheep never revisit a 'hood till the worm larvas are dead and gone (a few eggs of course can survive, which is why its still good to deworm seasonally).   In that photo above, the girls are knee deep in clover, and within 4 or 5 days, it too will look like the right side which they just finished mowin' over.

The lambs are doing well.  They are to the point where they are curious for themselves.  First it was whatever mom did, then only what the entire group deemed acceptable.  Now its to each his own, a matter of whose the bravest; one approaches, interested in what you have and as one gets near, the other lamb's competitive nature takes over enough that she wants in on the dare and tip toes closer.  Its just a matter of time before these guys will eat from your hand.  Not like the adult sheep that already will come bowl you over when you enter the pasture with grain! 

Dan feeding lambs, with Rutherford in the lead...

Hows the horse?  He is fine.  You know I have never broken a bone... had I meant, I had never broken a bone until Gunnar.  So here's the scoop.  He has been great, yeah yeah thats what they all say, but truly he has been great!  I tried rushing into changing bridals (thing on their head for controlling) AND a loser bit (less leverage in their mouth, ie head/neck) for him, when really neither of us (no bad horses, just bad riders) were ready for it.  I tried to get on him, and he absolutely freaked out. The first couple bucks I stayed on, despite smashing my thigh on the saddle horn, but the third (I think) I was a goner, up over his head and crashing onto the ground where I broke the radial head of my elbow. In the photo, its the part that looks lie a golf tee, center of the photo.  

Broken arm, Bruised Ego.

 Long story short.  Broken arm, cast for a week, aligned and healing, begin use as can be tolerated.  Within two weeks if I am still suffering on range of motion, then back in for a check up.  Six weeks - still pain?  Get a check up.  For now, buck up.  There are animals to feed, grass to cut, trim to put up and beautiful northern Michigan weather to enjoy.  And I STILL don't have to go to work tomorrow!





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